


Covering Up (Thommy II)

by causeimdifferent



Series: Thommy [2]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 08:12:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1597841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/causeimdifferent/pseuds/causeimdifferent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Contrary to the series Thomas has to come face to face with the two detectives after the cricket match.<br/>Enter Jimmy Kent.</p><p>[This is a sequel to "Your Tears Are not My Business" but it works on its own as well.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Covering Up (Thommy II)

Thomas knew what the two men were all about, before anyone had told him.

Those two men wearing coats despite the midday sun, standing at the far end of the cricket field, waiting. For him, Thomas.  
Watching him approach with wakeful eyes, Lord Grantham at their side.

Thomas knew.

He had a nose for the coppers. Ever since his London days as a young lad without a steady home. Stealing and tricking his way through life when no other means sufficed or were tolerable anymore.

 

They had just finished the cricket match after Thomas had given all of them a good show. Almost winning the game. He'd played like a champion and he would probably stay on at Downton. And if not, he would leave with an excellent reference. Carson had been fair. Very fair. And Jimmy had accepted the book*, after all. Which Thomas interpreted as sign of forgiveness.

Thomas had been pretty damn close to actually feeling happy for the first time in a long while. For a short minute or two life was good.

Too good to last. „Mr. Barrow“, Carson's voice carried the vibe of foreboding as he'd approached Thomas just moments ago. It was a voice reserved for occasions of distastefulness, not meant to be heard by anyone, other than the such addressed. The voice of shame. „There are two gentlemen who wish to talk to you.“

Thomas knew that instant, before he had even laid eyes on the two men, what they were going to be all about. He had merely nodded – and gone numb inside.

 

As if walking in a dream he accompanied Carson. Until he stood in front of the two men, feeling bloodless and empty. _That was it, then._ Jimmy may have accepted the book. But he had not forgiven, apparently. Now Thomas had a reference. But he'd go to jail. Seemed like he just could not win. „I have already told these gentlemen, that this must be an unfortunate misunderstanding“, Lord Grantham greeted him and Carson.

 „If His Lordship would just let us have a word with him by ourselves, if you please“, one of the men said, the smaller one with the moustache and a bowler hat. He had the red face of a choleric and eyed Thomas with the suspicious air of disgust of someone who has already decided the verdict.

Grantham gave a displeased nod but took a step back nonetheless. „You are Mr. Barrow?“ _No. An impostor who thrives on public humiliation._ „Yes“, Thomas said, feeling nauseous. „Due to the report of another person working at this household we have reasons to believe you were involved in an incident of indecent and illegal nature.“

 

Invisible walls began to close in around Thomas. Cold sweat started to form on his forehead and on his chest and he started to shiver despite the summer sun. _This is not really happening_ , Thomas thought stupidly - yet of course he knew it was. _Deny everything._ But he could not say a word. _Why,_ _Jimmy?_

„Mr Barrow. Have you heard, what I just said?“ The red-faced detective sounded disagreeable. When in doubt, for the accused. Not. Thomas knew the type. A bloodhound, impatient for the kill.

 „I'm at a blank as to what this is all about“, he managed. „May I ask who made these allegations?“ „A Mr. Alfred Nugent.“ Thomas stifled a sigh of relief. _Thank God, not Jimmy after all. Not Jimmy._ „You find this amusing?“ the detective snarled. _Did I smile?_ „No sir. No I don't“, Thomas conceded.

„Gentlemen, I am sure there is an explanation for those undoubtedly false allegations“, Lord Grantham interjected, „I doubt there is any need to bring discredit upon our dear Mr. Barrow here by taking him with you on wrong assumptions.“

Thomas's head started spinning. When had Lord Grantham decided to develop sympathies for him? Thomas had been a flawless valet, surely. But they had never established a bond that could be labelled more than 'professionally friendly'. They had exchanged courtesies, small talk. Thomas always felt that Grantham distrusted him. Who could blame him really. Once a thief , always a thief ... But then it had been Grantham of all people wanting Thomas to stay on – and now this? _Our_ dear _Mr. Barrow?!_ The world held pleasant surprises. Even for Thomas. On the rare occasion.

Still Thomas didn't delude himself – Grantham's current effort was probably primarily motivated by his desire to avert scandal and not having the jolly mood of the cricket day spoiled by an arrest.

All the same, Thomas made a mental note to consider more loyalty in the future. If he had one at Downton after all.

 

„Mr. Nugent, Sir“ Carson announced. Someone had called for the traitor who stepped nervously from one foot to the other, taking care not to look at Thomas. _Shouldn't have said you were nothing, I suppose … Is this revenge or O'Brien's last stand?_ „It was you, who called?“ the stocky detective huffed. „Yes, sir“, Alfred nodded. „Are you absolutely sure of your allegations?“ Alfred bit his lip: „Well, I know what I saw but ...“ „But?“ The detective demanded, his ill temper increasing „ … but in the end it is for Jimmy to say … There he comes, anyways ...“

They turned their heads. There he was, indeed: Jimmy Kent, looking dashing in his cricket whites, approaching them with an offended stride. „Is this about the fight we had?“ he demanded without any preliminaries. And the blood returned to Thomas's face.

 „What?“ said Alfred. „A fight?“ the taller detective enquired. „Well, nothing serious. We are not on overly friendly terms, really, Mr. Barrow and I, generally speaking. We had an argument, recently, which resulted in a, um … minor squabble of sorts.“ Thomas couldn't but glare at Jimmy in all his gorgeous resentfulness. His hair ruffled from the cricket, his cheeks aglow. _Damn you make a good liar._

 „A minor squabble – of sorts“, repeated the taller detective, addressing Alfred, eyebrows raised. His colleague just snorted. „Um … I … know what I've seen“, Alfred claimed, but the nervous flicker in his eyes awakened a glimmer of hope in Thomas that Alfred might be faltering „Which was that you saw Mr. Barrow imposing himself on this young man here in an indecent manner!“ bellowed the stocky detective. „What?“, Jimmy exclaimed.  
And Thomas knew there'd be no chance in hell he'd fall out of love with Jimmy Kent anytime soon.

 

„I don't believe, this is necessary, gentlemen.“ Lord Grantham interrupted. „I am sure Alfred will repeal his accusations as they are obviously based on a gross misconception.“ „Are they?“ the shorter detective's beady eyes pierced into the tall footman. „Well … if Jimmy says, nothing of the kind happened, then … I mean, it was dark and I just heard him shout at Mr. Barrow. Threatening to hit him ...“ Alfred stuttered. Despite the seriousness of the situation Thomas was suddenly transfixed by its absurdity. Did all those men around him really turn into liars in front of his very eyes?

 „You threatened to hit Mr. Barrow?“ the taller detective turned towards Jimmy, „Why was that?“ „Well, we had an argument. Something between men. Not important. About a girl.“ Thomas had to bite his teeth not to let his jaw drop in suspicious disbelief. He stared at Jimmy almost as discombobulated as Alfred. „Since when is it illegal for men to quarrel over a girl?“ Jimmy added with indignance. The detectives exchanged telling glances. „Well, Mr. Nugent … it appears it is up to you whether you think it necessary that we pursue this matter any further.“

 Alfred glared at Jimmy as if waiting for a clue, then scratched his head and said: „I suppose …“ he paused, biting his lip. _Please God_ , Thomas prayed, even though he had always doubted the existence of something such as that out there somewhere, _let me off the hook_. _I'll be nicer to everyone for a week or two, even to Alfred though he doesn't deserve it …_ „I suppose I was mistaken ...“, Alfred relented. „So we are done here, am I right?“ the shorter detective snorted. „Splendid, gentlemen. How about a cup of tea?“ Lord Grantham chimed in.

 „No, thank you, Your Lordship. We are on duty and very busy“. The short detective tipped his finger against his hat and nodded to his colleague to go. Thomas's stomach turned with relief.

 

As he watched the policmen disappear between the trees surrounding the cricket field Thomas felt Lord Grantham's hand land on his back with a thud: „Well, Barrow, I dare say don't test your luck again anytime soon. I gather you've used up quite a supply today.“ Thomas looked at his employer, humbled against his will: „I won't, Your Lordship. Thank you.“

 

On weak legs Thomas followed the other men back to the tea party to sit down in the shade a little apart. When he fumbled for a cigarette, his hands were shaking. Grantham, Alfred, Jimmy – all three of them had turned into liars just to save his hide. If he wasn't as depleted as this whole business had left him, he'd have cracked up in hysterical laughter. But for now Thomas just wanted to curl up in bed and weep. With relief. And gratitude. Jimmy had spared him. Lied for him. Saved him, basically.

  _One day I'll make up for that, I promise._

 

[ **_Proceed to Part III - Looking_ ** ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1672730)

**Author's Note:**

> * see "Your Tears are not My Business" for the backstory about that.


End file.
